


Merry Christmas, Captain Crieff

by Altais4



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Caring Douglas, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Man With A Van, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altais4/pseuds/Altais4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin feels miserable. It is ten days before Christmas and he has still no money for presents or rent. When things get desperate, help comes from an unexpected source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Ianina for betaing and encouraging me to write this Christmas fic in a rather short amount of time! Enjoy!!

15th December

Martin filed the last fuel invoice and closed the folder with a snap. It was ten days before Christmas and MJN had been on stand-by for three weeks. Outside it was raining sleets, but the crew was sitting in the relative comfort of the Portakabin, a small fan heater blowing stuffy heat. They had been killing time in here for hours.

Now Martin got up, squeezed past Douglas and Arthur lounging on the couch, and poked his head into Carolyn’s office. “Can I have a word please, Carolyn?”

“If this is about your standard operating procedure or any such nonsense, then my answer is decidedly no.”

“No, it’s . . . Carolyn.” Martin shuffled his feet. “I can’t do it any more. Waiting for some wealthy Russian owner of a yacht in the Caribbean who’s never going to show up. I really need at least two days off, better four. Christmas is coming.” He knew he sounded whiny, but he couldn’t help it. “I-I need to buy presents for my family.”

“You could always order them online.” Douglas’ lazy voice sounded from the sofa behind. “One of the perks of standby. Free internet access.”

Martin whipped around. Douglas had pulled down his reading glasses and was looking pointedly at the computer on their shared writing desk.

“It’s not only presents. I need the money for the rent,” Martin hissed almost inaudibly in his direction. If Douglas could for one time be serious. This was no laughing matter to him. Then he turned his head back to Carolyn.

“It's been three weeks. I'm sure he's forgotten about us.”

“I seriously hope not.” Carolyn turned her attention to the big ledger in front of her. “Anyway, standby is the Holy Grail of the airline industry: being paid to fly without any actual flying.”

“But I do not get paid,” Martin moaned. “Which would be tolerable if we were doing some actual flying. But so it’s just sitting and . . . and doing nothing. And I do have clients, too, who’d love to let me haul their furniture across Fitton.”

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Martin hunched miserably against the oncoming rain as he unlocked the door to Parkside Terrace. There had been no call from the Russian. Instead Arthur had tried to cheer him up with an endless stream of teas and coffees. So much so that Carolyn had glared at him because of the obvious waste. But there had been no further mention of his precarious financial situation.

Martin sighed. What had he been thinking? Had he really hoped that at least Douglas might have been a bit more understanding. Didn't they become friends over time?

As he went up the stairs, boisterous laughter and the smell of mulled wine were greeting him from the lounge. So this year's season of Christmas parties was already in full swing. Martin hurried on. Christmas parties meant that he couldn’t even use the lounge when his attic became to cold to be bearable.

Up in his room, Martin quickly changed out of his captain’s uniform and put on sweatpants and a jumper. Then he trudged down again to make himself what felt like the twentieth cup of tea for the day. On the stove stood a pot with some leftover mulled wine from the party. It was still warm, steaming a little.

Sod it, he thought, he’d had enough tea for the day. He got his mug from Duxford Air Museum from the shelf and poured himself a cup. Back in his room, Martin shoved a bunch of virtually useless Icarus flyers out of the way and powered up his computer. While he was waiting for the flight simulator to load, he took a large swig, savouring the sweet alcoholic taste on his tongue.

Then he started the game. Damn it, if he wasn’t going to fly to the Caribbean tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

17th December

Martin’s good spirits from the mulled wine did not last. There was no ready money lying around, and Martin was nowhere near a solution on how to pay this month’s rent, as well as presents for his nieces and nephews, let alone his other siblings. There had been no word from Mr. Aljachin’s Russian friend either. The crew of MJN was still stuck in the Portakabin. The sole change was that Douglas was now occupying the computer rather than the sofa.

After half an hour of surfing the internet Douglas looked up. ”Martin, I’ve got a proposition for you,” he said. “I’ve ordered some things online and I need someone to be at home when they’re delivered.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Martin asked sullenly. He had not yet got completely over Douglas’ indifference towards his financial problems. “Can’t the neighbours do it?”

“Well, not this particular item. It’s a sofa-bed. Mrs Higgs is quite elderly, you on the other hand . . . “

Martin sat up with his mouth agape. “I’m an airline captain and not your . . . your errand boy.“

“I would pay you, naturally,” Douglas replied. “Whatever the standard fare for your furniture hauling business is.”

“Oh, well.” Martin’s cheeks reddened. “It’s ten quid the hour.“ He had no idea how long he would have to sit and wait. But the extra cash would certainly come in handy.

”Douglas, I must object!” Carolyn, who had listened quietly to their conversation, appeared in the doorway. She wore a thick woollen cardigan and scarf over her uniform blouse, looking positively furious. “If Mr. Krupin turns up, we have to be ready in twenty minutes, flight plan filed, aircraft checked, ready to go.”

”My words exactly.” Douglas spun around on his desk chair. “If Martin hurries up, the drive from my house to Fitton airport takes him exactly twenty minutes. All he has to do is sit on my sofa with his mobile on and rush over here. Well, provide his phone lives up to the challenge.”

For a moment everyone shuffled to get a look at Martin’s old-fashioned phone, which was lying innocently on the writing desk plugged in to charge. There was a huge scratch zigzagging across the display.

Arthur was the first to speak. “Skip, I think it might be a bit broken after all. See I had the same problem, when I moved my TV-set and placed it accidentally on my phone. I mean it was hidden under a pile of horse riding journals Mindy had left. I’m not an idiot.”

“It’s just a scratch. It’s perfectly fit for use,” Martin snapped. Exasperated he reached out, unplugged his mobile and shoved it into his uniform pocket.

“And I will not become distracted.” Carolyn planted herself in front of her first officer. “Douglas, Martin cannot leave. It’s as simple as that. He has work to do.”

“Well, it’s not as if you actually need two persons for that.” Douglas smiled beatifically. “As has been repeatedly shown in this business here.”

“Yes, but still. Martin is my employee and . . .”

“... and I’ll pay him for a change,” Douglas retorted, deadly serious.

“Carolyn, I really do need some money.” Martin didn’t care how pathetic he sounded.

Carolyn glared at both of them, not backing down. “Fine,” she growled. “But, Douglas, if we loose business over this, I’ll hold you accountable.”


	3. Chapter 3

18th December

Martin opened the front door with Douglas’ spare key. The first thing he noticed was that it was actually warm in here. With a sigh he shrugged out of his captain’s jacket and hung it up on the coat rack, putting on an old jumper he used for work. No need to spoil his shirt while hauling the sofa-bed.

Unsure what to do next, he went further in. There was a comfortable lounge to his left, complete with a large bay window overlooking the street. Martin threw a quick glance inside, taking in the big sofa and a couple of comfy armchairs in front of the fireplace. He hadn’t been here before. Their friendship didn’t extend to visits at home.

Further down the hall were the kitchen and a more formally looking dining room. Martin paused, imagining what it would be like to have that much space to himself. Douglas had told him to help himself from the fridge if he needed anything. But Martin didn’t want to impose on his kindness, so he had brought his own lunch.

Next he went for the first floor, his footsteps sounding ominous in the empty house as he walked up the stairs. Despite having a key, Martin almost felt like an intruder, prying on his colleague’s private life.

Reaching the landing, he halted. The guest bedroom had to be the second to the right. Tentatively Martin opened the door and peeked inside. He grimaced. This was more like a cubbyhole, really, full of things nobody needed. He could even spot a set of golf clubs in the corner. In no way a sofa-bed was going to fit in here.

Shrugging Martin closed the door and went down again. Douglas’ house seemed comfortable enough, he reckoned, but also a bit neglected. There were just too many rooms, to many things, for one person in a space where formerly a whole family, or at least a happy couple, had lived.

In the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water from the tap and then moved on to the lounge. Careful not to disturb anything, he browsed the bookshelves until he found an interesting looking tome about the history of British civil aviation. Smiling, Martin took it down and ensconced himself on the sofa.

He was just relieved that he had managed to avoid stumbling into Douglas’ bedroom.

 

* * *

 

It had got dark outside and Martin was reading with the lights on, when he heard a key turning in the lock. Douglas was back. They had agreed for Martin to wait for him so that Douglas could hand over the pay.

“Hello . . . Martin?” Douglas called out.

“In here.” Nervously Martin started up. An hour ago, he had received the delivery as planned and transported it up the stairs. It was an awful heavy, quality kind of bed. But fortunately Martin had lots of experience in lugging furniture on his own. Now the thing was sitting in the first floor hallway.

“I had no idea where to put it,” Martin said apologetically as they plodded up the stairs.

Douglas frowned, accessing the room and the sofa-bed. “Well, I haven’t cleared up in here for ages,” he admitted. “This certainly needs to be tidied before Verity comes to stay over Christmas.”

“Doesn’t she have got her own room?” Martin almost couldn’t believe otherwise in a house this big.

“Well, it’s more like Emily’s room right now.” Douglas opened another door and Martin got a vivid impression of pink. “I think Verity might have outgrown that.”

“Erm, yes.” Martin nodded. He had no idea, what teenaged girls fancied these days.

Douglas pulled the door shut and turned back to Martin, their eyes meeting. “What do you think? Care to come in tomorrow and sort this mess out?” he asked with a crooked little smile. 

Martin looked at him, imagining to spend another day here, earning real money. “Deal!”


	4. Chapter 4

19th December

Today they were meeting at Douglas’ house. When the man opened the door, already in his uniform, it flashed through Martin’s mind what a dashing figure he cut. This was something that rather got lost in their less than glamorous day-to-day routine at MJN, he thought, becoming a little light-headed.

Up in the attic, Douglas showed him around. Apparently there were a great many things his first officer didn’t need anymore.

When he had left for the airport – punctually for once – Martin quickly changed out of his own uniform. He was aware that if Mr Krupin actually showed up, this would cost him precious minutes, but after a wait of almost four weeks that seemed more like a theoretical problem. Then he inspected Verity’s room. Douglas was right, in no way could she live in here. Resolutely Martin grabbed the golf clubs and brought them up the stairs.

After two hours of clearing out junk, Martin went down for a break. To his astonishment he found a slip of paper lying on the kitchen worktop reading: ‘Sandwiches and juice are in the fridge, Douglas xx’. Curiously Martin opened the door and discovered a ready made plate. With a smile on his face, he took it out and went to the lounge.

Resting on the sofa, munching bacon and tomato sandwich, Martin contemplated what a nice thing this was for Douglas to do. Giving him work, feeding him. It almost made up for the lack of flying these past weeks. Soon after, he got up again, determined to make Verity’s new room as comfortable as possible.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, Martin was standing in the attic, contemplating a box full of Christmas decorations. There was a long string of fairy lights lying on top. Martin tilted his head from side to side. He didn’t want to just put it up in Verity’s room. But there was a small tree out in the front garden. Martin had noticed that all the other houses in the street had Christmas decorations to some degree. Merely Douglas’ house was standing out gloomily.

Hoping not to presume too much, Martin carefully extracted the fairy lights from the box and went out to hang them up on the tree. Just when he plugged the cord in, he heard the sound of an approaching car. There was a dull thud, and then the clacking of footsteps as Douglas walked up the pathway.

“Hello, Martin. I see you’re getting into the spirit of Christmas,” he smiled.

Martin instinctively pulled back, blushing. “I can put them down. I just thought . . . since it’s Christmas . . .“

“No, Verity will love them.” Douglas came up by his side, their shoulders brushing, puffing out little steam clouds. The fairy lights were shining merrily in the tree, making the house look much more lived in.

“You're w-welcome.” Dazed Martin followed Douglas inside and up to the first floor, just glad that he didn't mind the lights. Together they admired the now junk-free guest room. It looked fine in Martin’s opinion, even though a bit bare. “I could put up some decorations in here, too,” he gulped.

Douglas rubbed his jaw, saying nothing for a while. He looked at Martin pensively. “How about you come in for another day, make the house more homely?” he suggested.

Martin blinked, his heart beating faster. He found Douglas’ home nice enough. Then again, his daughter was coming.

Douglas seemed to misinterpret his silence. “If you like, I could make dinner for us,” he tried again.

“Oh . . . that’s not necessary,” Martin stammered, not wanting to intrude. But whom was he kidding. Douglas’ cooking was legendary. Also – as he realised now – he quite liked his company.

Nervously Martin ran his fingers through his hair, plucking up his courage. ”Douglas . . . I’d love to.”


	5. Chapter 5

20th December

The next morning, on his way to Douglas, Martin found himself smiling for no reason. It had to be the Christmas spirit after all, he decided. The whole city seemed to be festively decorated, streets and houses illuminated by thousands of lights. On a whim Martin stopped at a flower shop and bought a Christmas wreath and some fresh holly and mistletoe. Douglas had been really generous these past days and this was his way of saying thank you.

Even though the man didn’t talk much about it, Martin knew what spending the holidays with Verity meant to him. And for his part, Martin was determined to help where he could.

Sometimes it was actually hard to remember that he wasn’t planning the festivities for himself. On Christmas Day, though, he would be driving to his mother’s place in Wokingham, and all of this – whatever this was – would come to an end. At least, this time around, he had the means to bring nice presents.

When Martin arrived at Douglas’ house, the tree in the front garden was twinkling, welcoming him in. In the hall he found Christmas cards from both of Douglas’ daughters lying on the doormat.

Whistling, he picked them up and propped them up on the mantelpiece.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, the lounge was shining in full glory. Martin had put up all the Christmas decorations stored in the attic, and he could hardly wait to see the look on Douglas’ face. There were candles, garlands, lots of tinsel and the occasional bunch of mistletoe. His wreath had gone up over the mantelpiece, the Christmas stockings dangling underneath. In the corner by the window sat a small but lushly adorned Christmas tree.

Martin hesitated. He wasn’t aware if Douglas had any special traditions, but since they were going to have dinner together, he reckoned there would be plenty of time to change anything he liked. Oddly enough, moving around the house didn’t feel awkward anymore. After spending so much time at the place, Martin almost felt like he belonged here.

Just when he was hanging up the last garland, the telephone rang.

Hectically he patted down his pockets in search for his mobile when he realised that the ringing came from the landline. Martin dashed into the hall, grabbing the receiver. “Hello! Is it you, Carolyn?”

“Hello, who am I speaking with, please?” asked a clear female voice. “This is Verity.”

“Oh . . . hello Verity.” He exhaled slowly, just relieved that it wasn’t Carolyn. “Martin, erm Martin Crieff speaking . . . Captain Martin Crieff, actually. Never mind, I’m helping Douglas around the house.”

“I see. Is Douglas around?”

“Your father? Erm no, but . . .” Martin cleared his throat, having an idea. Since Verity was already on the phone, he might ask her if she had any special wishes for the holidays. “About Christmas . . .“

“What about it? I won’t be coming.”

“N-Not coming?” Martin gasped, clutching the receiver.

“No, I’m going to the Canary Islands with my boyfriend’s family.” She sounded a little defensive now. “I’ve been planning this trip for weeks.”

“And Douglas knows about this?” Martin gulped, shaking his head in disbelief. In the background he could hear Christmas songs playing on the radio.

“Well, he actually encouraged me not to pass up on a free ride,” Verity pointed out. “Martin . . . are you still there? Please, say hi to him. And . . . bye.”

“Bye.” Slowly Martin put the receiver down, his insides churning.

Verity wasn’t coming. Douglas would be alone at Christmas, and he had known it all along.


	6. Chapter 6

Martin was pacing the lounge, back and forth, checking on garlands, the tree, picking up tiny scraps of tinsel. Everything looked fine, just like Douglas had wished. But what should he do? What should he say? Verity wasn’t coming . . . she had never intended to come. That was his new mantra he kept repeating over and over in his head.

The front door opened, and Martin cringed.

“Hello, mon capitaine!” Douglas strode in as energetically as ever, his cheeks reddened from the chill outside. As soon as he saw the room, lights shining brightly, he went very still. “Just look at that. It hasn’t been like this since the second Mrs Richardson has left me. Well done!”

“Thank . . . thank you.” Martin quickly averted his gaze, blushing at the compliment despite himself.

“Hmm, Verity will love it.” Douglas continued inspecting the room, reaching out and touching various pieces. Martin swallowed hard. The man seemed to be in such good spirits.

“Mistletoe, Martin?” Douglas spun around, his eyes dancing. “Very cheeky.”

At that, Martin couldn’t bear it any longer. “Verity has called,” he blurted.

“Well, that’s nice. What did she want–” Douglas came to an abrupt halt, and it was painful to watch how all colour was draining from his expressive face as the pieces fell into place. “I see,” he said tonelessly. “So I gather you already know.” He nodded vaguely in the direction of the hall where the telephone stood.

“Douglas, I’m so sorry.” Without thinking, Martin rushed forward and pulled the man into a hug. Douglas had been a good friend and Martin just couldn’t leave him alone in this. Also he felt so warm and soft, smelling of apple juice and Christmas biscuits. Embarrassed Martin let go.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmured in the direction of Douglas’ chest. “But Douglas . . . you could have told me.”

“Good Lord, Martin, it’s not what it looks like.” Douglas turned away and sank into an armchair. “What I mean to say is I’m not in denial or something. I’ve bought the sofa-bed in the hope that if Verity had a place of her own, she might spend more time with me here.”

“Yes, but all of this?” Martin couldn’t help but indicating at the festive decorations all around them.

“Just because I’m going to spend Christmas on my own, doesn’t mean that I should be miserable,” Douglas replied gently.

“No, surely not.“ Now Martin was feeling even more like a bastard.

“Besides Martin . . . there is something I’d like to ask you.” Douglas cleared his throat. “Would you care to come to dinner on Christmas Eve?”

 

* * *

 

Martin was in a pensive mood as he walked up to his van that night. It was freezing cold outside, the stars twinkling in the dark, and he was just glad that he had secured a parking spot nearby. Douglas had cooked dinner as promised, and they had been sitting and talking for hours.

Apparently Verity was genuinely looking forward to her trip to the Canary Islands. However, Douglas believed that if he had made more of an effort, she might not have given up so easily on a family Christmas. That was something he wished to change in the future.

Martin was rather touched by Douglas asking him to keep him company on Christmas Eve. And a little excited, too. At first, he had assumed the invitation was just a spur of the moment thing, but the more he thought about it . . . the decorating, preparing . . . Douglas being Douglas might have planned it all.

And then there was the hug. Martin couldn’t get it out of his mind. Shivering he opened the door to his van and climbed onto the driver’s seat. He leaned back with a sigh, his hand involuntarily touching his lips.

They had done it again, the hugging, as a good-bye. He could still remember the feel of Douglas’ warm body pressed against his, of burying his face in the crook of the man’s neck. For a few glorious seconds Martin had held on tight.

He turned the key in the ignition, realising that his hands were shaking. Martin halted, closing his eyes for a moment. Absently he slid his hand into his jacket pocket where he kept a long, detailed shopping list regarding their shared Christmas dinner.

Douglas had hired him for another day.


	7. Chapter 7

22th December

The whole of Fitton seemed to be up and about, the city humming with festive spirit. Women laden with shopping bags were squeezing past Martin as he watched the bustling activity at the town square – children admiring the great Christmas tree, adults chatting and drinking mulled wine, teenagers in knitted scarves and caps idling their time away.

Martin felt a huge grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He hadn’t been to town this close to the holidays for years. So it was with a kind of wonder that he found himself strolling around like everybody else, money in his pockets, inexplicably filled with pleasant anticipation. Doing Christmas shopping might not meet exactly Carolyn’s requirements, but at this point nobody really believed that they were going to fly before Christmas.

Douglas had given Martin plenty of money along with the shopping list and, what was more, he had added helpful suggestions where to buy the specialities. So shopping should be easy, Martin assumed, since he didn’t need to stress himself out by hunting down everything on his own.

But what about the man himself? Last night, Martin had been lying awake on his clammy futon for hours, racking his brain about a suitable present. Unbidden images of the two of them cuddling and hugging, or kissing, which kept invading his brain hadn’t helped at all. God, he didn’t even know how Douglas felt about dating men. 

Martin sighed, biting his lip, as he took in the abundance of goods all around him. Douglas’ gift had to be something special. But what could he possibly give to a man who lived in a house full of things he didn’t need? And who might be a bit lonely too, a tiny voice suggested. Suddenly Martin’s gaze fell on an advertisement stuck on the window of a bookshop and he began to smile. He had an idea.

First things first, though. He still needed to get the presents for his nieces and nephews. In a much lighter mood, Martin entered a big toy store. In there, he headed for a bluish-pink counter with the word ’Frozen’ all over it. His nieces were mad about Anna and Elsa.

 

* * *

 

Late in the afternoon, Martin unlocked the door to Douglas’ house and went straight through to the kitchen. He had got everything on the list. Exhausted, but contend he unpacked the various bags, filling the perishable food into the fridge. Bread, flasks and canned goods went onto the counter. 

Martin had never spent this much money on food alone, but it was Christmas and Douglas was a wonderful cook. From what he could perceive they were going to have carrot soup, mince pies, chicken roast and something chocolaty for dessert. He couldn’t wait for it. 

On a whim, he took a Post-it lying on the kitchen counter and quickly he wrote ’Thank you Douglas, xx Martin’. Then he drew a little smiley, decorating it with a Santa’s hat. With a flurry feeling in his stomach, not unlike butterflies, he stuck it to the fridge. 

He knew he should be leaving now, but instead Martin found himself ambling through the ground-floor rooms. After their shared evening yesterday, it felt odd to stay in the house on his own, but still he got the urge to linger.

He went into the lounge, where the Christmas wreath was hanging over the mantelpiece and the little tree standing in the corner. Here they had hugged, and Martin wondered what Douglas might think about that. Next his gaze fell onto the armchairs by the fireplace. With a smile, he realised that this very Christmas they would be sitting here again.

Heart beating faster, Martin left the room, walked up the stairs and down the hall, until he came to Douglas’ bedroom. He opened the door a tiny crack. Unable to contain himself, he peeked inside. There was a king-sized bed, with some books and a pair of reading glasses books stacked on the night-stand. It was obvious that only one side of the bed was being used regularly. 

Holding his breath, Martin made a few steps further in, instinctively reaching for the bed cover. He shivered as he let the cool, smooth fabric glide between his fingertips. Suddenly he glimpsed a small pile of prettily wrapped parcels hidden in a corner. Martin froze, blood rushing to his face. 

He shuffled back, then rushed down the stairs, heart pounding in his ears. This had been way out of line, and he knew it. In the hall, he halted briefly to compose himself, avoiding to look at his face in the mirror. He slid on his jacket and left.

Tomorrow, Martin would resume work with MJN. He would see Douglas again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I’m sorry to say that this is going to be the last chapter before the holidays. The remaining two chapters are already planned out, so I hope it won’t take too long for Martin and Douglas to get their deserved happy ending. Thank you for reading and your kind comments, and merry Christmas to you all!!

23th December

It was the first time in almost a week that Martin was going in to work, and he was feeling jittery for no particular reason. His uniform was freshly pressed, the flight-bag packed, but then again, so much had happened. He still couldn’t believe that he had sneaked into Douglas’ bedroom. However, when he opened the door to the Portakabin, it was as if he had never been away. Douglas and Arthur were lounging on the couch, while was Carolyn speaking on the phone in her office.

“Good morning, everybody.” Martin raised his voice, hoping to calm his nerves by showing authority. He was the captain of this enterprise after all.

“Hello, Skip. Merry Christmas!” Arthur bounced to his feet, shoving a large bowl of biscuit scraps into Martin’s hand. “See, I’ve got Christmas crumbs for you. I was going to make polar bears. But mum said the bears would eat the reindeers . . . and so I tried reindeers instead . . . but the antlers kept crumbling. That’s when I invented Christmas crumbs.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” Martin took the biscuits and carefully shrugged out of his coat, stealing a glance at Douglas. The man appeared to be completely absorbed by his book and had barely looked up when Martin had entered the room.

Now Douglas put his reading glasses down and raised an eyebrow at Martin. “You really should try one of these, captain. Cupids antlers . . . not your run-of-the-mill sort of treat.” Their eyes met for a moment, and his warm smile made Martin’s heart flutter.

“Oh well, if you think so.” Gingerly he picked one of the larger pieces.

“Douglas stop harassing my employees!” Carolyn had hung up the receiver and was rushing into the room. “Listen up, lazy pilots. Our rich Russian friend has called.” She sounded inexplicably cheered about it.

There was a collective moan from Arthur, Douglas and Martin. Nobody had reckoned that they had to fly this very day. With horror Martin thought of all the food stored in Douglas’ fridge for their Christmas dinner.

“We’re going to fly on the 27th,” Carolyn added gleefully. “One week in the Caribbean on expenses, as our customer likes to keep his private jet handy.”

Martin’s eyes went wide – a one week holiday on expenses. He didn’t have a proper holiday in years, or rather he didn’t have _any_ holiday since he had stopped going away with the family. He glanced at Douglas, who already had a thoughtful smile on his lips.

“So this went very well for us.” Carolyn admitted grudgingly. She crossed her arms over her chest. ”That being the case, MJN Air is going to pay Christmas bonuses for the first time in history . . . and probably the last time, given our usual proceeds.”

Martin averted his gaze, feeling his cheeks redden. A huge lump was forming in his gut. A bonus meant extra pay for Douglas, maybe even Arthur, but not for him. Because the double of nothing was still nothing and so forth.

Suddenly he felt a gentle nudge on his shoulder. Surprised he looked up as Carolyn handed him an envelope as well. “You’ve earned it, idiot,” she smiled, genuine warmth in her eyes.

Technically he did not, Martin knew. With trembling fingers, he opened it and counted the notes. “Oh my God.” This was the pay for three months rent. Together with what was left over from Douglas’ pay, he could scrape by for quite some time.

He turned towards his first officer and their eyes locked. With a pounding heart, Martin realised that Douglas had known all along.

“So hurry up drivers!” Carolyn shushed them along. “And . . . merry Christmas.”

Slowly Martin got up, carefully tucking away his very first pay as captain of MJN. As he squeezed by the couch, his leg accidentally brushed Douglas’ knees. He gasped, feeling an electric shiver running down his spine.

“See you for dinner tomorrow?” He smiled tentatively down at the man, not caring what Arthur and Carolyn might think.

And Douglas smiled right back.


	9. Chapter 9

24th December

The lounge was shining warm with light, candles flickering, Christmas lights twinkling, reflected by tiny scraps of tinsel. A seductive scent of roast chicken was filling the room, and the delicious taste of chocolate mousse was lingering on Martin’s palate as he ensconced himself in an armchair, pleasantly sated by a four-course meal, glass of wine in hand.

The food had been excellent and abundant, but Martin was only too happy to finally adjourn to the lounge. He didn’t tell Douglas, but ever since their evening together, the talking and . . . yes, the hugging, he thought of it as _their_ room.

Douglas set about building a fire in the grate, and Martin watched him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There hadn’t been any more hugs so far. However, when earlier Douglas had opened the door and welcomed him, still wearing a chef’s apron, Martin hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the man. How could anyone make doing housework look this good?

Martin had shrugged out of his jacket and followed Douglas to the kitchen, inspecting the various pots and pans, before he started to set the table. They might not have hugged, but helping Douglas around the house made him feel cosy and warm in an entirely different way.

“It’s a pity that Verity can’t be here,” Martin murmured now.

Douglas settled into an armchair with a sigh, the fire crackling in the fireplace. “Well, maybe next year. She has really deserved her trip to Tenerife. And who knows? Her new room looks splendid . . . thanks to you.” He flashed Martin a grateful smile.

“You could post a picture of us sitting here in front of the fire on Facebook. Make her envious,” Martin suggested, feeling rather ingenious from the good wine, albeit a little tipsy.

Douglas’ answering smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Martin’s stomach dropped. He swallowed. “What do you think, shall we open our presents now? I mean it’s not exactly Christmas, but . . .”

“Excellent idea!” Douglas pushed himself up from the armchair, clearly as relieved about the change of topic as Martin felt. He fetched a small packet from the mantelpiece that Martin hadn’t noticed before and presented it with a flourish. “Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you.” Their fingers touched briefly and Martin shivered. The beautifully wrapped parcel was light in the hand. With trembling fingers Martin undid the red bow and unfolded the golden paper. When he finally opened his gift, his eyes went wide. “It’s a phone!”

“I thought you could use a new one,” Douglas said smiling.

Martin was momentarily rendered speechless. He stared at the packet, his hands frozen. Such an expensive gift. Douglas had been very generous these days – almost as if he wanted to make up for all the time he had got paid and Martin not. At that, he felt his cheeks grow hot, and with a flutter in his stomach Martin placed the box on his armchair. He rushed to the hall and came back with a colourful envelope. “Here is mine,” he panted. “Merry Christmas.”

“Hmm, you’ve got me a . . . Christmas card,” Douglas mused teasingly. But he was already opening the envelope, extracting two tickets and a small brochure. “A crime dinner, Martin?” he said surprised.

“See, I know you read all those mysteries,” Martin hurried to explain. “I bet you’ll have figured this out in no time which will please you. Plus you love good food. And since you already seem to have everything, I didn’t really know what to give you. And then I thought you might like some company– “

“What do you mean by that?” Douglas dry voice cut right through his babbling.

“No, no. This came out totally wrong.” Martin cringed with embarrassment. He didn’t mean to imply that Douglas was lonely. “I-I thought . . . I really hoped . . . that we might go together. Or you could take Verity instead . . . give her a treat.“ He took a deep breath, cheeks and ears flushing bright red.

“Martin, listen to me,” Douglas interrupted softly. “Verity and I could do many things together. This is for you and me. Thank you very much for this thoughtful gift.”

Martin sighed with relief. Douglas had liked the idea, or at least he didn’t find it totally inappropriate. Nervously he glanced at the man, then checked his watch. God, was it 10:30 already? He had drunk far too much wine to drive. Martin cleared his throat. “Douglas, I’ll better go now. I may have to leave the van here for the night.” He went to the window and looked outside. The streets were glittering with white frost.

“Why don’t you stay overnight?” Suddenly Douglas was standing next to him, their shoulders brushing.

Martin shuddered at the touch. He hadn’t noticed him coming nearer. So, Douglas invited him to stay – something he hadn’t expected in his wildest dreams. Martin closed his eyes. They hadn’t even kissed, but all he could think about was the bedroom with the large bed, only one side used.

“You could use the spare room, since you’ve worked so hard on it,” Douglas suggested.

“Oh, yeah, great.” So why was it that Martin was suddenly feeling so cold inside?

Together they walked up the familiar stairs. Douglas opened the door to Verity’s room and Martin gasped. Douglas had put clean, white sheets on the bed and Christmas lights were shining from the windows. Everything was perfectly prepared, just for him.

“I don’t have pyjamas,” Martin stammered.

“Hmm, I could lend you a shirt. Surely you don’t mind sleeping in your boxers for one night, do you?” Douglas murmured.

With that, the man was out through the door. Moments later, he was back again, carrying a fresh shirt, a towel and a brand-new toothbrush lying on top. “I think you already know where the bathroom is,” Douglas said with a smile. “Good night, Martin.”

“G-Good night,” Martin replied, still frozen on the spot. He barely noticed the door closing behind Douglas with a soft thud.

Martin was alone.


	10. Chapter 10

24th December (at night)

Martin tossed himself from one side to the other, rumpling the fine bedsheets, unable to fall asleep. His pillow was pleasantly soft, the new mattress firm, and even the room temperature seemed to be perfect, so unlike his freezing attic. However, all Martin could manage was to get increasingly entangled with the blanket, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. 

He had switched off the Christmas lights a while ago, and the street lamps were casting their pale shine over the room. It reminded him uncannily of his van parking outside in the street and that he would have to drive to Wokingham tomorrow. Martin felt like an idiot. What was he even doing here, lying alone in Verity’s bed? He should have gone home long ago. 

Changing in a strange room, donning Douglas’ shirt, had been unexpectedly awkward and intimate. Martin had waited until it had gone absolutely quiet in the house, before he had dared to tiptoe over to the bathroom, anxious not to run half-naked into Douglas, chest churning with embarrassment.

He had been such a fool to believe that a hug meant something. Surely Douglas did that all the time. And wasn’t it rather telling that he hadn’t initiated anything tonight? With a sigh, Martin sat up, rearranged the blanket. He knew he should be more grateful. So much had changed in the course of a week. He had some money. He could pay his rent. Also Christmas dinner with Douglas had been wonderful.

Miserably Martin fluffed the pillow into shape, not for the first time wondering what Douglas was thinking, all alone in his big bed. Did he already regret inviting Martin over? Five minutes later, he sat up again with his mouth dry. He turned the bedside light on, fumbled for his wristwatch. 23:45. Somehow he had to get through this night. 

Martin slid the blanket aside and set his bare feet on the plush carpet. He would go down for a while, make himself some hot milk. He opened the door a crack and peeked into the hall, hoping not to disturb Douglas. The last thing he wanted was being fussed over by a reluctant host. When all remained silent, he padded softly down the stairs. There was no need to make light. The Christmas tree was still casting its friendly glow.

With an odd sense of longing, Martin recalled Douglas and him sitting together in the lounge, comfortably ensconced in front of the fire. All had been well then, more than well really. . . exciting. In passing Martin glanced into the room and found their Christmas presents and wrapping paper still lying scattered around. He made a mental note not to forget his new phone in the morning. 

The kitchen door was left ajar. Slowly Martin pushed it open and stopped dead in his tracks. There was a dark figure standing by the worktop. Douglas!

Martin’s heart lurched oddly at the sight. Douglas was clad in his pyjama and slippers, holding a mug of something hot in hand. Behind him, a small pot steamed on the stove. Martin made a few steps forward. “Douglas, what are you doing here?” 

“There’s hot milk. Do you want some?” Douglas said by way of greeting. He turned towards him and Martin could see an affectionate smile spreading over his face. 

“Yes, please,” Martin stammered. Nervously he shuffled nearer as he watched Douglas fetch another mug. The man poured some milk and placed it before him. Gratefully Martin cradled the hot mug in his hands and leaned against the worktop, warmth spreading through his fingers. “I couldn’t sleep. Though the room is great,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“Looks like you’re not the only one,” Douglas answered with a self-depreciating little smile. He took a large swig of milk. His dark eyes never left Martin, as if he was trying to figure something out.

Martin dropped his gaze. He just had realised how close together they were standing and he became increasingly aware of his scantily clad state. Why hadn’t he put on his trousers at the very least? “I really liked spending Christmas Eve together,” he mumbled, just to say something.

“Yes, me too,” Douglas replied coarsely. 

Martin cast a quick glance at Douglas, who regarded him with heavy-lidded eyes. Blushing, he averted his gaze, when suddenly he glimpsed something white glittering through the kitchen window. “Look, it’s snowing!” Martin exclaimed.

Indeed, thick snowflakes were coming down. The garden was already covered under a white blanket. An unexpected surge of joy shot through Martin, like back then, when he was a child, and the first snow mattered still. He opened the garden door to get a better view. Freezing cold rushed towards him, creeping up his bare legs.

“Martin, it’s freezing. Come back inside!” Douglas sounded concerned. Seconds later, two big, warm hands touched Martin’s shoulders. 

“Oh.” Martin began to shiver and not only from the cold. Instinctively he leaned back, seeking the warmth of the soft flannel of Douglas’ pyjama. 

“Come here.” Strong arms wrapped around him. Martin trembled and turned around. When he looked up, Douglas’ lips were parted, slightly glistering from the milk. Above him in the dark dangled a bunch of green. 

“Mm-Mistletoe,” Martin breathed. Half pressing forward, half being pulled, he stumbled into the embrace as he looped his arms around Douglas’ neck. Finally. Wonderfully. 

Soft lips touched his. Martin felt electric tingles shooting through his body as they slid together, their excited breaths mingling. From afar he could hear the church bells tolling, their clear sound muffled from the falling snow. Ding dong, ding dong. Martin stilled, silently counting. Twelve times. “Douglas, it’s . . .”

At that moment, he was swept away as Douglas, laughingly, pulled him close again. He rested his chin on Martin’s shoulder, whispered into his ear. 

“Merry Christmas, Captain Crieff.”

The End


End file.
